


such a strange shape

by helloearthlings



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sexist Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 13:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14333520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloearthlings/pseuds/helloearthlings
Summary: “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve come in here in varying states of intoxication for weeks now,” Jason told him, laughing a bit like it’s an inside joke between them. Jason actually could give less of a fuck if Sammy comes into the studio drunk or high or barely holding on as long as he doesn’t fuck up the broadcast because of it.Sammy didn’t respond. Jason didn’t deserve a response, with his shitty little smile and snide attitude toward everything Sammy did. He’d never liked Jason, not for one minute, but that had been easier to ignore before.Now, nothing was easy to ignore.





	such a strange shape

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm. Yes. I'm back again. Back on my bullshit. 
> 
> This is kind of a sequel to the fic I wrote earlier today? It's at least adjacent to it, but they definitely don't have to be read together, they're just tangentially related. Anyway, set between Jack's disappearance and Sammy going to King Falls, as you'll probably figure out quickly. Hope you enjoy!

“Shotgun, as much as I respect some good, solid day-drinking, even you have to admit this is a little much.”

Sammy glared at Jason through heavily-lidded eyes. He’d sobered up – well, mostly sobered up – since the afternoon’s incident.

In Sammy’s defense, he didn’t think he was even capable of projectile vomiting, let alone in the studio, so really, he’d learned something about himself today. It’d probably been because he’d actually had a meal today. Most days, he forgot to eat.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve come in here in varying states of intoxication for weeks now,” Jason told him, laughing a bit like it’s an inside joke between them. Jason actually could give less of a fuck if Sammy comes into the studio drunk or high or barely holding on as long as he doesn’t fuck up the broadcast because of it.

“Ever since your little…vacation,” Jason said, deliberately and less than delicately avoiding the real subject here, “you’ve been having some problems. We can all see it.”

Sammy didn’t respond. Jason didn’t deserve a response, with his shitty little smile and snide attitude toward everything Sammy did. He’d never liked Jason, not for one minute, but that had been easier to ignore before.

Now, nothing was easy to ignore. Now, there was a constant blaring in Sammy’s mind that wouldn’t stop, that made him lash out at everything around him that even hinted at provocation.

“Why don’t we take a walk outside?” Jason said, rising to his feet, not giving Sammy a choice in the matter. “Fresh air might do you some good.”

Sammy followed him without argument. It would be pointless right now. He also didn’t exactly trust himself to open his mouth right now – whether he’d vomit or say something he’d regret, he had no idea.

It might be fun to vomit on Jason. He’d deserve it.

They walked out into the studio’s lobby and Jason stopped at reception to look down Laurie’s top like he did every goddamn day of the week.

“Love the blouse, Laurie.” Sammy couldn't see Jason’s face but knew that he was winking in what he thinks is a charming manner but is actually deeply creepy. Laurie flushed, obviously more out of embarrassment than flattery.

Sammy made eye contact with her from behind Jason’s head and grimaced. She gave him a half-smile.

Sammy and Laurie had never exchanged more than a few words. Sammy wished he could do more for her, stuck in this shitty reception with Jason and the other leering creeps who ran the station making lewd comments behind her back.

In that moment, they both understand that they’d rather be about anywhere in the world than talking to Jason Colander, though.

Sammy wished he could stay in reception, but trudged after Jason into the parking lot. Jason leaned up against the building, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He offered one to Sammy.

Sammy started smoking two months ago, but right now he felt like he’d probably die if anything else went in his mouth today so he shook his head.

“I’ve picked up a new permanent producer,” Jason said abruptly, and Sammy immediately wanted to throw up again. “His name’s Brick Pager.”

Jason didn’t continue, instead studying Sammy’s face and waiting for a reaction.

Sammy clenched his jaw before speaking in tightly formed syllables, “What the fuck kind of name is Brick?”

Jason laughed, hard and mean. “He’s a good guy, Sammy. I’m sure you’ll like him.”

Something horrible twisted in Sammy’s gut that had nothing to do with alcohol or food or cigarettes.

“McKenzie’s doing fine filling in,” he said because he couldn’t talk about what was really going on, not with fucking Jason of all people.

Jason snorted. “Whatever. McKenzie’s decent, but she’s not radio material. You know that. She’s just an intern – she’ll end up a cashier or baby mama someday.”

Sammy resisted the very strong urge to punch Jason in the face. What he obviously meant was that McKenzie was a woman who was also smart and capable, and Jason felt threatened by that. McKenzie could probably take over Jason’s job and be better at it than he ever was. 

Jason sighed when Sammy got nonresponsive again. “Look, Shotgun. Jack was a great producer, and I know you’d worked together for a long time –”

Sammy let out a bitter laugh. That was one way of putting their relationship.

“–but even you have to admit that Jack got sporadic and unreliable those last few weeks he was here. He probably skipped town.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Sammy said, sharper and more emotional than he’d intended. He meant it to be a jibe at Jason, not an immediate look into Sammy’s fractured pieces.

“Or he’s dead,” Jason said, expression blank. No Bullshit Jason was striking again, and Sammy’s hand shook with the restraint it took not to suplex the guy where he stood. “He’s either bailed on you or he’s in a ditch somewhere, Shotgun. Don’t get me wrong, he was a good guy and a good producer. But he’s gone and there’s no use crying over it now.”

It took all Sammy had not to react. He shoved his hands down in his pockets, let his head throb with his hangover, and didn’t give Jason the fucking satisfaction.

Jason half-glared at Sammy, clearly pissed off at the quiet, but Sammy wasn’t about to give him anything. “You’ve been a shitty host since he left. Don’t deny it, you know it’s true.”

Sammy wouldn’t have denied it, but he let Jason keep on thinking he had the upper hand in this argument.

“The show must go on, and it’s going on with Shotgun Saturday nights hosted by Sammy Stevens and Brick Pager,” Jason said as if that left no room for argument. “Brick will produce and McKenzie can go back to taking coffee orders like she’s good at.”

Sammy didn’t respond.

“Goddammit, Stevens,” Jason snapped, shaking his head. He used Sammy’s real name, which he hardly ever did, because he preferred the character that he helped create. The role he’d written that Sammy had stepped into. “I know Jack was your friend –”

“Best friend,” Sammy corrected, even though it wasn’t enough, wasn’t the right word. Boyfriend, fiancé, those were the right words. Heart, soul, all that sappy shit. But best friend wasn’t a lie – Jack was his best friend, too. Always had been.

“Whatever –” Jason started, annoyed, but Sammy decided that now was a good time to cut him off.

“You got a best friend, Jason?” Sammy asked and didn’t wait for a response. “Someone you’ve spent practically every hour with for – oh, I don’t know, the last ten years? Do you have anyone like that? Because when you do, you’re not very willing to accept _bailed on you_ or _dead_ as viable options after only two fucking months.”

Jack wasn’t either of those things, of that Sammy was sure. Sometimes, when Sammy was particularly drunk, he began to doubt that, but when he was sober he knew perfectly well that Jack wouldn’t have left him without a goodbye and that he would’ve felt it if Jack died.

Sammy didn’t believe in much, but he believed he’d know. He’d just know.

Jason glared at him, because Jason obviously didn’t have anyone like that because Jason was a fucking prick.

“Stop being such a fag –” Jason didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because that time Sammy really did punch him.

“What the fuck?” Jason gaped up at him, wiping blood away from his nose. Adrenaline still rushed through Sammy’s system, and it was a horrible combination with his hangover, his empty stomach, and deep intangible _grief._

“Don’t be a piece of shit,” Sammy said, practically snarled. Seeing the blood on Jason’s face made him feel better in a weird and terrible sort of way, like at least Sammy existed enough in the world that he could make that happen.

“I swear to God, Shotgun,” Jason muttered under his breath, but it was a deflated muttering. He wasn’t going to fight back. Which was probably better for Sammy’s health and well-being, but a part of him was still disappointed. It would have been nice to be able to feel something for a change. “You’re lucky I don’t press charges or fire your ass.”

“So fire me,” Sammy said blankly, almost hoping for it.

Jason clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “You already know I won’t do that. You’re a money-maker, kid. Just don’t pull this kind of shit again, you got me?”

Sammy went back to not responding, too busy keeping his raging temper under control to grace Jason with an answer.

“Take a week off,” Jason said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Take a week off and when you come back, you’ll feel differently. You’ll see things my way. Got it?”

Sammy smiled tightly. “Got it.”

* * *

 

Sammy took his week off to put his house up for sale and e-mail some dinky radio shack deep in the Colorado Rockies begging for a job.

He went back to the fucking studio the next Monday and put a check on Jason’s desk.

Jason looked up, staring at Sammy like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

“Name an amount,” Sammy said, gesturing toward the check. “And I’ll give it to you. I want out.”

“You’re not thinking clearly,” Jason said immediately, laughing incredulously. “You’re – I don’t know, you’re in denial or something. Jack’s not worth this.”

“Name a fucking amount,” Sammy repeated himself, keeping his fists clenched and at his side. “Name it and I’ll pay it.”

“What the hell are you going to do when you leave here?” Jason said. “I made you, Shotgun. And don’t think I can’t spread the word to any other station in the area about your anger management issues. No one would hire you.”

Sammy was pretty certain that whatever radio operation King Falls had going on wouldn’t exactly give a shit about his credentials, but he didn’t want to let Jason know where he was going. He didn’t want to ever see Jason again, didn’t ever want to _think_ about Jason, and especially didn’t want Jason to think about him.

“I don’t care,” Sammy said as coolly and clearly as possible. “Name an amount.”

Jason quirked an eyebrow up.

He named an amount.

Sammy signed the check.

* * *

 

Sammy tried not to shake as he left the building for the final time. It wasn’t like he had any particular emotional attachment to Shotgun Saturday Nights or any of the people there, but it was someplace that he and Jack had been together. Someplace they’d been successful and happy.

Laurie nodded to him from the front desk, obviously not aware of what Sammy had just done.

Sammy walked past her before turning around and heading back to the desk, getting his checkbook out as he walked.

“I –” Laurie glanced up at him confusedly as he wrote a dollar amount in the checkbook. “Mr. Stevens, what are you…?”

“It’s Sammy,” he told her distractedly, penning in his signature. “What’s your last name?”

“Lewis,” Laurie said, blinking up at him as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “Seriously, Sammy, what are you doing?”

“My buy-out wasn’t as expensive as I anticipated,” Sammy said, ripping the check out and handing it to her.

She looked down at the check and then up at him, gaping. “I – what the – Sammy, what do you mean, buy-out?”

“I’m leaving,” Sammy said, and just saying it out loud made him feel so much better about this decision. “You should get a new job, Laurie, one where creepy old guys don’t look down your shirt every ten minutes. Hopefully that money can help.”

“This is so generous,” Laurie said, a little faintly. “I can’t possibly –”

“I don’t need it,” Sammy said before she could give the check back. “I really don’t. And I don’t care what you do with it as long as you get out of here. You don’t deserve this.”

Laurie gazed up at him with complete shock in her eyes. “Thank you – God, this is…this is so amazing of you. And I – I’m really sorry. About Jack Wright. I saw it on the news and realized that he was your co-host. I know you guys were close.”

Sammy didn’t have to ask how she knew. Everyone who’d ever been in the same room as he and Jack for longer than thirty seconds knew they were close. But hearing Jack’s name twisted up his insides.

No one in King Falls would know Jack’s name. No one in King Falls would know that just hearing his name was enough to make Sammy feel a bit like he was drowning.

“Take care of yourself, Laurie,” Sammy said quietly, and headed out the doors for the last time.

He had a cigarette in the parking lot, checked his email, and found a job offer for the local AM station in King Falls in the middle of the goddamn night.

It sounded much better than anything this place had ever given him.


End file.
